Chapter Text
“Are you sure this is the right house? It seems kind of small…”
Cassidy climbs out of the car, holding a nice pinot noir and a bottle of chardonnay, chuckling at her boyfriend. “You’re not the first person to think that. Just because they’re famous doesn’t mean they’re flashy.”
“Huh, well that’s cool. In my head, I always pictured Eric Bittle in a mansion,” David remarks, walking around the car to meet her.
“It’s probably because his show has such a huge kitchen set.”
“Exactly!” David agrees. “It’s like you want the rest of the house to be proportionate to the kitchen.”
“You know that’s a set right and not a real kitchen?”
He grins at her. “Yeah, but I bet his kitchen is pretty nice though.”
“It is. I’ve seen it.”
“Oh, yeah!”
They walk up the long driveway and ring the doorbell on the Bittle-Zimmermann house, and Jack opens the door.
“Cassidy! Hello, it’s good to see you. I wasn’t sure if you were coming.” He looks honestly happy to see her, which eases Cassidy’s nerves quite a bit. This is the first ‘social” meeting she’s had with Jack and Eric. They’ve been in each other’s lives so long, it seems bizarre that they’ve never spent time together when they weren’t all working, but here they are. “Come in, come in,” Jack continues. “Bitty’s in the kitchen. Obviously. You can put your coats in here.” He gestures to a spare room off the foyer.
“Thanks for having us,” Cassidy says, sincerely, as she shucks her coat. “And I’d like you to meet my boyfriend, David.”
David steps forward and shakes Jack’s hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Jack. I’m excited to watch this in-depth documentary on your life and get to know you better.”
Jack laughs at that, caught off-guard by David’s dry sense of humor. “You haven’t seen it yet?” He asks, turning to Cassidy for confirmation.
She shakes her head. “I told him he had to wait until it was finished like everyone else.”
Jack just nods. “I made Bitty wait, too. I knew I was going to have to watch it beforehand for approval, but you do such good work, I wanted him at least to see it in its final version.”
The complement catches her off-guard. “Oh. Um… cool.” She realizes too late, when they’re already heading down the hall, that she probably should have just said “thank you.”
They follow Jack into the main living space, a gorgeous open great room with the living, dining, and kitchen spaces seamlessly flowing from one to another. Jack keeps talking, which is something Cassidy has learned he does more often in his own house than at any hockey-related event. “Since I wouldn’t let him see it beforehand, Bits wanted to have this viewing party. He felt that if he had to wait, he might as well make an event out of it.” His voice drops to a stage whisper. “Although, it’s not like he needs a reason to make something into an event.”
Cassidy and David laugh politely, and David glances at her, eyebrows raised and clearly wondering if this is her normal: having inside jokes with pro athletes and TV stars. She shrugs a shoulder. Maybe it is her normal.
Most of the guests have already arrived to the house. Cassidy recognizes a couple of guys from the Falconers – past and present – and a woman she knows to be a producer on Eric’s Food Network show, Bitty’s Bites, but most of the faces are new to her.
“Ms. Cassidy!” someone calls from the kitchen, and Eric rushes out from behind the island, wearing a frayed, fading Falconers apron. “I’m so glad you made it!”
“I’m so glad you invited me,” she replies, handing him the two bottles in her hands.
“You shouldn’t have!” he says, setting the bottles down near a wine fridge built into the kitchen island. “And who is this?” he asks, smiling broadly at David.
“This is my boyfriend, David. He’s a computer science professor at Yale,” she adds, only bragging a little.
“Well, we’re delighted to have you, David,” Eric says, charmingly.
“I promise I like sports!” David blurts out. “And Food Network,” he adds, as Cassidy hides her face in her hands. So much for bragging. He might be her boyfriend, but he’s a dork.
“No one cares, David. Just be cool,” Cassidy groans, gratefully taking the glass of white wine that Eric hands her.
“Sorry.” He sheepishly takes a glass from Eric as well, and they move towards the couches in the living room. Cassidy pats David’s elbow, letting him know that they’re still good. As they’re sitting down, Jack runs through quick introductions of the other guests. In addition to the hockey players and their families and TV people, there are also a handful of Jack and Eric’s college friends.
A gaggle of children run through screaming, including Jack and Eric’s two kids. A man with a mustache chases after them, cackling. A pretty, petite woman shakes her head from the couch. “Babe, stop terrorizing the kiddos!” she yells at him. “You’re almost 40. You’re gonna break a hip.”
“Babe, I’m a dragon,” he says, like it’s obvious. “It’s my job to terrorize them.”
“That’s Shitty,” Jack tells Cassidy and David. “Ignore him.”
“Wait, is Shitty his name?” David whispers in her ear a few moments later, baffled.
There is food everywhere – on the coffee table, on trays, on the counter – and all of it looks incredible. It tastes even better, and Cassidy wonders why she never made an effort to truly befriend the Bittle-Zimmermanns sooner.
“This is amazing,” David says with his mouthful of homemade crab puffs. “One of us should really learn how to cook.”
“Which one of us has time to cook?” she counters, popping another puff in her mouth. “I already bought Eric’s cookbook.”
“So how do you know Jack and Bitty?” the tiny woman interjects. “I’m Larissa, by the way, though you can call me Lardo.”
Cassidy is fairly confident she will never, ever call this woman – or anyone, really – Lardo, but replies, “I used to work for Falcs TV, which is where I met Jack.”
“She directed and produced the movie tonight,” David adds, his turn to brag, and Larissa’s face lights up.
“Oh! That’s ‘swawesome! We’re all really excited to see it,” she says.
“I hope you all enjoy it,” she says, still blushing at the complement, even after doing this for so many years. “It was a fun project, definitely the most fun piece I’ve worked on in a long time. But if it’s bad,” she adds, joking, “you know who to blame.”
“Yeah, Jack,” Larissa jokes. “Our expectations when it comes to Mr. Robot over here—” she gestures at Jack, “—are pretty low.”
“Don’t worry, I found creative ways around using his interviews,” Cassidy teases. She looks at Jack, who’s listening with a half-smile, like he’s used to the chirping. “I had to give my editors a raise after this piece. Between shortening Eric’s answers and making Jack’s usable, they really had their work cut out for them.” Everyone within earshot laughs.
“They did a good job,” Jack says, and Cassidy smiles at him.
“I’m only joking,” she says. “I got amazing stuff from both of you. I’m very excited to see the reaction.”
“Oh, Bitty’s definitely gonna cry,” Jack says as Eric walks towards them, arms crossed.
“So? What’s wrong with crying?” he retorts.
“Nothing’s wrong with crying,” Cassidy assures him. “As the producer, I can say definitively that these 30 for 30s are made specifically to manipulate your emotions. You’re supposed to cry.”
“See!” Eric says, waving at Jack. “She wants us to cry.”
“I never said it was a bad thing!” Jack replies. “I never said I didn’t cry when I saw it.”
Eric’s eyes widen, the ready-to-go chirp falling away from his lips. Jack flashes him a sly grin, before turning around to refill his glass, hiding his face from the group. Eric blushes slightly, and Cassidy gets a flashback to years and years ago, when she used to observe these two together, looking at each other with stars in their eyes when they thought no one was watching. Even now, with definitive proof of their relationship about to air on national television, their feelings for each other seem so genuine, so passionate. She hopes again that she was able to capture that passion in the feature. She’s been too close to the piece for too long to really know.
She gets distracted again by dinner, a buffet-style set up on the dining room table with a ton of mouthwatering food. The wave of children reenters and leaves again in a whirlwind of sweet potato fries and chicken tenders. Someone’s teenager follows after them with a plate, obviously on babysitting duty.
The adults go through after and load up on a huge variety of delicious-smelling dishes. “I don’t know if you’ve ever been to an event here before,” Larissa tells them as they sit down again, “but make sure you save room for pie.”
“Did you know I’ve known Eric for over a decade, and I have yet to taste his pie?” Cassidy replies, cutting into some tri-tip.
“What the frack?!” the mustached man yells from Larissa’s other side. “You’ve never eaten Bits’ pies? You’re missing out!”
“What are y’all screaming about?” Eric says, coming in and sitting on the corner of the huge couch.
“Cassidy says she’s never tried your pie,” Larissa responds.
Eric gasps, horrified. “Are you sure? Oh my goodness, I’m mortified! My mama would be so upset with me. The checker at the grocery store has tried my pies. How could I have forgotten to make you one?”
“It’s fine,” Cassidy assures him.
‘It’s not! Oh lord, I can’t believe I dropped the ball so badly.” He looks frantically towards the kitchen, fidgeting as if he’s thinking about getting up.
Jack puts a hand on his shoulder, sitting down next to him. “You’ve already made three pies for tonight. You can’t go make another one. You’ll miss the show.”
“But Cassidy deserves her own pie,” he whines.
“It’s really fine!” Cassidy assures, sort of shocked. “I really don’t need my own pie. But I will admit I’m excited to try some. Everyone from Sidney Crosby to Guy Fieri has raved about them.”
Eric seems somewhat mollified, although Jack has to keep whispering in his ear as they eat, a firm hand on his thigh to keep him from getting up and rushing to the kitchen. However, by the end of dinner, Cassidy’s not even sure she wants dessert. The food had all been insanely good, and even just trying a little bit of everything had meant an overflowing plate. She feels about ready to burst.
“I take it back. Neither of us will ever be able to cook this well,” David whispers in her ear, and she nods in agreement.
As the 8:00 p.m. start time approaches, everyone in attendance starts moving to refill their glasses and make sure their children are okay, before ambling over find a good seat on the couch.
“Ms. Cassidy, would you like to address your audience?” Eric asks once everyone is settled, just a few minutes before the start of the show. He phrases it as a question, but starts waving her up as if she’s to give a speech. She’s had just enough wine to feel totally comfortable with it.
“As you all know, tonight is the season finale of 30 for 2030, ESPN’s yearlong revival of their documentary series. You may or may not know that since I’m the VP of Feature Content at ESPN,” David whoops, clapping, and a handful of the others join in, which makes Cassidy’s cheeks redden. “It’s really nothing to clap about, everyone. I only say that to explain how I’ve been very involved with this series from the beginning. When we first started talking about this revival, Jack’s name was the first on my list. We wanted to tell meaningful stories that transcended sports, and Jack’s journey has inspired millions, including myself.” She looks directly at Jack and Eric. “If we’re being honest, this is the piece I’ve wanted to produce since you guys went public, but it took me nearly ten years to get the interview,” she jokes. A wave of laughter rolls through the room.
She continues. “It’s been my pleasure getting to know Jack and Eric over many years, and I am very eager for you all – some of their closest friends – to see this film, because I don’t know if I’ve ever been prouder to be associated with a project. Jack and Eric, you allowed me to share your hopes, your fears, your hearts with millions of people, and I don’t think you realize how grateful I am, or how inspiring it will be.” She looks around at all of the faces looking at her and suddenly feels nervous. “And that’s it. Enjoy the show! If you don’t like it, blame my editor.”
Everyone chuckles as Cassidy retakes her seat, and Eric pushes a button to lower a digital projection screen from the ceiling. With the push of a few more buttons, the lights dim and the screen comes to life. The last thing Cassidy notices before turning her attention to the opening credits is Eric nestling in alongside Jack on the corner of the couch.
***
When the film ends and the lights come back up, Cassidy can see that at least half the guests have been crying. Everyone starts gushing to Jack and Eric, and even to Cassidy, about the story.
“I can’t believe you guys fucking eloped and didn’t tell us!” the guy with the mustache shouts, smacking Jack playfully on the shoulder with the back of his hand. “If your whole wedding was fake, then how come you didn’t let me officiate?”
“It wasn’t fake!” Eric protests. “It was just… delayed.”
David turns to her. “That was awesome, Cass.”
“Really?” She trusts David to tell her his honest opinion, but still.
“It was so good.” He looks over at Jack and Eric. “That final scene, the one from the first Stanley Cup…”
Cassidy smiles. “I shot that. It was probably the last time I ever had to carry a camera, and I wasn’t even supposed to be there, but yeah.”
“Well thank god you were there, because… wow.” He brings his hand to his chest, resting just over his heart. “Seeing them be in love…” He trails off, blushing suddenly, smiling shyly at Cassidy.
“Yeah,” she responds, is all she can say, really, because she gets it. They only recently said the words to each other, but it feels different this time, and seeing the overwhelming, soul-crushing love between Eric and Jack suddenly feels more like confirmation than aspiration.
Most of the guests start standing and gathering their things to head out, especially those with children, until eventually, there’s only six of them left. “I put August and Vanessa down with Marie and Richie, Lards,” Jack says, descending the stairs. “They all passed out during the movie, so it’s a good thing we already put them in their pajamas,”
“Thanks, Jack. They were so excited when we told them they were gonna get to sleepover with their favorite pseudo-cousins.”
“We need to do this more often,” Eric adds, uncorking another bottle of wine and filling up everyone’s glasses.
Cassidy meant to leave at a reasonable time. She really did, but it was never her strong suit. She’s been the last one to leave a party since college. It’s just that after a few drinks, people love telling stories, and after a few drinks, Cassidy can’t help but listen. She is an expert at keeping a conversation going and going and going. On top of that, these people are awesome. Eric is hysterical and snarky, while Jack has a witty, dry sense of humor, and excellent chirping abilities. David and Larissa end up in an animated conversation about their respective Vietnamese grandparents, while Cassidy finds herself in an intense discussion with Shitty – and yes, that is what he is called, except by the Bittle-Zimmermann children who call him “Uncle Spitty” – a about gender representation in sports. It’s only been one night, and she already obsessed with each of them in their own way, like the characters in her favorite story.
She gets up to go to the bathroom, and when she comes back, David, Larissa, and Shitty are deep in conversation, laughing and chatting like they’ve known each other for years. Eric and Jack are standing together in the kitchen. Even more than a decade later, they still gravitate towards each other. They’re still completely in love. It’s different from when they were young and trying to make a name for themselves, unsure of what challenges lay ahead. Theirs is a love that’s been tested and challenged, that’s survived the wild events of the documentary they all just watched as well as the mundanity of sharing a life every day with the person they know better than they know themselves.
They whisper together like teenagers, blushing, touching and smiling with impossible fondness. Eric tilts his head up, and Jack kisses him, quick and sweet. He pulls away, and Eric just touches his chest, smiling, and Jack loops an arm around his shoulder. They fit so well together, she thinks, returning to the group.
It’s nearly 2:00 a.m. when David taps her arm. “Hey. You ready to go?”
She nods. She’s suddenly exhausted, like the time just caught up with her. Her legs wobble when she stands. Now that she thinks about it, her wine glass was never really empty, thanks to Eric. “Are you okay to drive?” she asks David, slurring a bit. “Because, like, I’m definitely not.”
David laughs at her, softly and fondly. “I’m good. I stopped drinking a while ago.”
He stands too, and they say their goodbyes. “It was so great to meet you,” Larissa – Lardo – says, hugging them both as if they were lifelong friends. “Hopefully we’ll see you again around here soon.”
“That’s up to Jack and Eric,” Cassidy says. “Hopefully I haven’t disgraced them with my filmmaking.”
“Not a bit,” Jack says, eyes drooping more than usual from the wine. “It was a really great show. Thank you.”
“Yes, thank you,” Eric adds, before his eyes grow wide. “Oh! I almost forgot!” He stumbles to the oven and pulls out a pie from where it has been warming. It looks fresh, and Cassidy has no idea when he had time to bake it. “I only had apples on hand, so I hope you like apple pie.”
“Aww, yes!” David says, fist-bumping the air.
“Is this for me?” Cassidy asks, gingerly accepting the pie. It’s not hot, but it’s still warm. She is completely touched, emotions heightened by alcohol and good company.
“Sorry it’s so long overdue.” Eric smiles at her, wrapping his arm around Jack’s waist.
They all say goodbye for the last time, and Cassidy steps outside, feeling fulfilled and satisfied in a way that she can never remember feeling before. It feels like she just finished a really great book. With the pie in one hand and David’s hand in the other, she savors the moment, feeling perfectly content and at ease.
“That was fun,” David says. “I liked them.”
“Me too,” she replies. “And I like you.”
“I love you,” he says back. He’s quiet for a moment, before whispering to her, “I think we can have what they have.” She doesn’t have to ask who he means by “they.”
“Me too,” she admits, also whispering. She feels vulnerable admitting it, but it also feel truer than it’s ever been. Saying it out loud is liberating and terrifying and wonderful all at once. She guesses that’s what love is supposed to be like.
They return to the car, and she rests a hand on David’s knee, thinking the whole way home how happy she is with her life.
***
The next morning, they have apple pie in bed. It’s the best thing she’s ever eaten.